The Unmentalist
by FiascoWay
Summary: Red John has met a humiliating end and Jane is shacked up with a massage therapist. When she kicks him out he wonders if maybe Lisbon is 'the one'. This story is a friendly send up of the more traditional Jane/Lisbon pairing so true romantics had best avoid or risk bitter disappointment :-) Set during an unspecified time at the CBI. *COMPLETE*
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is an affectionate parody of our favourite show, a gentle poke at some of the common themes and tropes of TM (both show and fanfiction). I hope everyone takes it in the light-hearted spirit it was written. This is my first published fanfiction but please don't hold back on your reviews, we only improve through honest criticism.**

**Disclaimer: To protect the innocent the characters from The Mentalist have had their personalities completely changed; only their names have remained the same. Naturally I own no part of the show.**

**Chapter 1 - The Proposition**

Red John was dead.

Ultimately it hadn't been either Jane's cleverness or Lisbon's formidable detective work that brought about his undoing. No indeed. The greatest serial killer in California's history fell victim to an unlikely combination of bad directions and hardened arteries. When Thomas McAllister walked through the entrance of the Sacramento Convention Centre he turned right instead of left. Thus instead of attending the 27supth/sup Rock Scissor Paper world championships he found himself at the National Pigeon Racing convention. The shock of the seeing so many birds along with the overenthusiastic tazering he received from the security personnel trying to subdue him proved too much for Red John's evil heart.

The subsequent investigation into the events quickly unearthed his grizzly secrets and the hunt for Red John was suddenly over. Jane took it quite well, all things considered. He'd carefully gone over every detail in the case file that Lisbon gave him and then went to look at McAllister's body in the morgue. He tried to reconcile the cock-eyed, horror struck face (still covered in bird poop) with that of the man who had tormented him for the last 10 years. In a weirdly perverse way it all fit.

After that he'd gone on something of an epic bender in Sacramento's seedier parts. He lost most of his money in various underground poker games but gained a girlfriend in the form of Crystal, a somewhat blowsy new age massage therapist. He'd returned to work the next Monday, somewhat the worse for wear but with no real plans for making big changes to his life.

* 3 months later *

Jane woke up in his own bed. Crystal had kicked him out a week ago and he honestly couldn't blame her. He'd known going in the relationship wouldn't last but it had been convenient. It also saved him from having to sort through his complicated emotional entanglement with a with a certain female CBI agent.

Over the years Jane had rarely allowed himself to imagine a happy ending to his revenge quest. On those occasions he did they invariably featured Lisbon and not a slightly over ripe massage therapist. Still, Crystal had been easy going and undemanding to be with and that was what he had needed. Plus though she was nothing like the happy ending he had imagined there was no denying her skill at giving him happy endings of a different kind.

Drawing a smiley face in red crayon on the wall above her bed had probably been the last straw, Jane reflected. It was unrealistic to expect a sensitive new age soul such as Crystal to live under such a horrific reminder of his past. It was insensitive of him, but Jane had found himself unable to sleep without the familiar smiley above him. His therapist had suggested drawing the face and as with so many other things the good doctor had been right. "God bless psychiatrists" Jane mused, not for the first time. Examining his feelings about the end of his fling Jane found he bore Crystal no ill will whatsoever. It couldn't be easy to be the rebound relationship from a serial killer.

So here he now was, back in his own miserable room with not much of anything to look forward to. He was a little older and a lot wiser for the fact that lasting happiness did not come at the hands of a squirt of coconut oil and a warm, sympathetic palm. Or the sounds of whales making love to the constipated strains of synthesized ambient music and crashing waves. Jane shuddered involuntarily.

It was time to get a grip of himself (instead of just laying back and letting someone else do it for him). He needed to make changes and finally move forward. He reached for a suit from his wardrobe and then paused to critically appraise the state of his clothes. He really needed to update his look. Choosing the least battered outfit he slipped it on and then then thrust his feet into his trusty shoes, his most faithful companions over the years. Sadly, this was the precise moment they finally gave up the ghost and fell completely apart. Judging from the smell of mouldering leather emanating from the remains it was a merciful passing.

Jane's immediate course of action was decided. He had to buy himself some new shoes. Something comfortable and versatile. Something that could accommodate any number of different looks and occasions and express his personality to the fullest. He knew just the something that would fit the bill, a nice pair of brown loafers. With tassels.

It was nearly lunch time before a freshly shod Jane made his way up to the bullpen. Cho, as usual, was leafing through Who magazine and nattering about the celeb gossip section with Van Pelt. Rigsby rolled his eyes in exasperation and turned over another page of _Thus Spake Zoroaster_. His Nietzsche kick showed no signs of abating and it had played hell with his tolerance of his partner's foibles.

Ignoring his colleagues, Jane plonked down on his favourite bean bag and considered his next move. In the spirit of moving on with his life he had decided to finally face up to his feelings for Lisbon. He'd known her for the best part of 10 years and if he was honest with himself she was the only reason he continued to turn up at the CBI. Slowly and surely she had come to mean everything to him. Rival, sibling, confidant, co-conspirator, mother... Lover? It was time to find out because she was the gold standard against which he judged every other woman.

The problem was he was pretty sure she was seeing someone. An irritatingly tall, dark and handsome man from the FBI. Marvin? Surely not Marvin, but definitely a name starting with 'M'. The truth was Jane had been in such a coconut scented daze for the last few months he had barely been paying attention to Lisbon or anything else at the CBI. Manny? Damn. The lack of knowledge was killing him.

Jane kicked his brain into top gear and began sorting through stratagems. Before he had a heart to heart with Teresa he really needed to know the lay of the land. He could use his investigative skills to quickly fill the knowledge gap. Follow her around after work, eavesdrop on her conversations, pump his colleagues on every bit of gossip they knew... Jane pursed his lips in distaste. That course of action sounded a little off, if not utterly creepy and stalker-ish.

On consideration a more direct approach might be best. Ask Lisbon openly and see where her feelings lay. After all he had always found honesty to be the best policy with his partner. Action decided he leapt up from his faithful beanbag which farewelled him with a repressed hiss. Jane hastened to Lisbon's office before he could chicken out of his plan.

Lisbon had been so immersed in her game of computer solitaire she barely had time to alt tab the screen to an old budget report when Jane burst in. "Jane!" She said brightly. "Come in, take a load off. I feel like we've hardly talked over the last 3 months…"

"Yeah, I know. It's like after Red John died we both actually got a life outside of work. I was seeing Crystal and you started dating Merrick… "

"Marcus", Lisbon corrected him.

"Right Marcus, yeah of course". How are things going with him?

"Not so good. He came out of the closet last week, which sort of put a dampener on things".

"He's gay? Cool, I mean that's too bad".

"I should have seen it coming" Lisbon sighed. Good looking, immaculately dressed, and heading up the Art Crimes department for chrissake. Art Crimes! Talk about a flashing neon sign…"

"Bummer, so to speak", quipped Jane as Lisbon shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Oblivious, he continued. "Well look on the bright side Lisbon, we have each other!"

"True enough", conceded Lisbon, "though that's not much help to my love life. Speaking of which, how are you and Crystal doing?"

"She finally kicked me out a couple of weeks ago", said Jane, exaggerating the time line a little. "To be honest we were on rocky ground pretty much from the start"

"That's a shame, I thought she was good for you".

Jane raised an eyebrow. "Really? In what way".

"Well, she was a woman. You actually started living life a little." Lisbon's expression turned sly. " I'm sure those total wellness and crystal healing seminars she dragged you to had some redeeming aspects."

Jane shuddered, then grinned at his partner. "If you are any friend at all you will never remind me of that again. Look, I was in a messed up place when I met her and tawdry as it sounds I think some brainless companionship was what I needed at the time. I wouldn't have been any good to anyone I cared about and who deserved my full attention".

Jane turned serious. "Speaking of full attention, I've realised that over the last few months I haven't been paying it to the most important person in my life".

Lisbon quirked her head at the sudden change in tone but she was never one to shy away from a frank disclosure of her feelings. "That's OK, Jane. Truth to tell, I feel the same way and I was equally neglectful. Let's agree to always make time for each other no matter who else we are seeing".

Seeing his opening Jane pinned Lisbon with an intense stare and laid his cards on the table. "You know it would be even simpler if we just started seeing each other".

Lisbon stilled. "I… I don't know if that's a good idea. I mean you're my best friend, we've been through so much together. What if we do this and it doesn't work out?"

"That's just it, Lisbon. We've already seen each other at our best _and_ worst. Even if things don't work out our bond is strong enough to survive it. I think we owe it to ourselves to at least see where this could go."

Lisbon wavered a little. "I don't know, it's all a bit weird, isn't it? Sitting here and just talking about it. Where would be even start?"

Jane continued to press his case. "Come to my place after work. I'll cook us dinner, give us a chance to really talk and see what happens".

"Dinner in that fleapit motel of yours? Sorry Jane but I couldn't think of anywhere less romantic".

Jane leapt to capitalise. "No, not the motel, my, ah apartment."

"You have an apartment?" asked Lisbon, unable to hide her surprise.

"Sure, yeah, of course I do. What do you take me for? The motel was part of the old me, I've changed. C'mon Lisbon. Carpe Diem and all that. Give this a shot. At the very least you'll get a really nice meal out of it and some good company. What's to lose?" Jane flashed her is warmest, most charming smile.

Lisbon felt a traitorous smile creep across her face as she shook her head in defeat. "OK, why the hell not. At the very least I'll get to check out your new digs. Where is it?"

Jane leant forward and gave Lisbon a hasty peck on the cheek before heading rapidly for the door. "I'll text you the address", he called over his shoulder. "I've got to go and do some shopping, I'll see you at six!"

Lisbon sighed in a mixture of relief irritation as her consultant vanished from sight. Then she buried her face in her hands. She had a feeling she'd just committed to making a huge mistake.

A/N: So that's chapter 1 and this story will be completed in the next chapter. Will things work out for our favourite duo? The bigger question is can anything turn out well where tasselled loafers are concerned. Final chapter should be up within a week.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This is the concluding chapter to this short piece. My thanks to Haaraash for reviewing the story and providing vital encouragement. Several reviewers have expressed opinions along the line that Jane and Lisbon will naturally end up together. To them I suggest they have perhaps been spoiled by the general tenor of the (admittedly excellent) fiction on this site. Finally, a warning. There will be a bit of sex towards the end of the chapter though perhaps not in the way you think...

**Chapter 2 - The Consequences**

Promptly at 6pm Lisbon walked up to Jane's apartment. She was about to knock when she noticed the door was ajar. That was strange. During the hunt for Red John she and her team had become extremely security conscious, terribly aware that they were all in the serial killer's sights. An unsecured door screamed danger to her cop instincts.

With a sense of foreboding Lisbon eased through the door and stepped into the living room. The room was dark, the only illumination being the sun's waning rays shining through the window and onto the opposite wall. It immediately drew her eye to the picture on the wall above the couch that was artfully set to catch the eye of anyone entering the room. For one terrible second Lisbon felt she understood how Jane must have felt when he first opened his bedroom door that terrible day when Red John had taken everything from him.

It was only for a second, however, for instead of a red smiley face she was gazing at a pair of naked, sweat covered breasts belonging to a healthy young woman curling weights in a pair of tights and a sweatband. Lisbon blinked several times in surprise. She tried to tear her gaze away from the sight but they seemed to exert a special kind of gravity on her eyes.

With an effort she forced herself to take in the rest of the room. Patrick Jane was a man who jealously guarded his privacy and looking around the living room Lisbon began to think he had damn good reason to. The décor was frankly appalling.

The 80s titty poster above the couch wasn't the only questionable object adorning the room. She took in framed picture of a naked blonde suggestively astride a Harley and shuddered. Desperate for a diversion she walked over to the plain melamine shelf to look at his books. Instead of Shakespeare and Jung she was treated to the collected works of Dan Brown, Stephanie Meyer and the talentless hack responsible for _50 Shades of Grey_.

The shelf below had several bound compilations of _Letters to Penthouse_. The less said about the DVD titles the better. Poor Lisbon would spend years trying to erase _Shaving Ryan's Privates_ from her memory. Embarrassed she looked down and noticed the slightly sticky thick purple shag carpet was threatening to engulf her feet.

The overall effect of the room was hideous, though Lisbon was forced to concede it did unambiguously projected a certain aesthetic. It was just too bad that the aesthetic was that of a horny teenager's fantasy of a love nest.

In something of a state of shock Lisbon couldn't help wondering who had masturbated forth this living room and what had they done with Jane. Had his time with Crystal of the coconut oil palms warped him in some strange way? Had his nearly ten years of self-imposed celibacy regressed him to some sex obsessed teenage version of himself? It was simply too distasteful to contemplate. Lisbon seriously considered turning tail and fleeing the apartment when she heard some suspiciously Jane-like cursing from the kitchen.

Jane swore at the disaster in front of him as he felt the rise of something close to animal panic. His _chicken surprise_, an old recipe from his carney days had not gone as planned. His memory palace was an unassailable vault of knowledge but never had he seen a better demonstration of the principle of 'crap in, crap out'.

Clearly the recipe he had memorised had left out crucial pieces of information; such as the requirement to allow four hours for a frozen chicken to thaw.

He cast another fearful glance at the _thing_ he had removed from the oven. His chicken (species _Gallus Gallus Domesticus_ his memory palace unhelpfully supplied) was no longer recognisable as such and Jane was forced to concede that his strategy of compensating for its frozen state by doubling the recommended roasting temperature had not been a good one.

The outside of the fowl was burnt black and yet he had a horrible suspicion that the inside would still be raw. The tinned pineapple rings he'd so artfully placed around each wing and leg had fused into something resembling glass. He was about to hurl the evidence into a bin when Lisbon staggered into the kitchen.

There was a fraught silence. Lisbon took a second to take in Jane's harried expression as he tried to angle his body to conceal the state of the extremely deceased chicken that lay on the counter. She absently noted smoke was oozing from a crack in its back. "Well I can see why you would never try to seduce me over a meal" she said dryly, hoping to ease the tension.

Jane rallied at her tone. "That's right, he quipped, it would be sophomoric. Or in this case, pyromanic", he said regretfully. He removed the tea towel draped over his shoulder and laid it gently over the smouldering carcass, much like he would over a body at a crime scene. The familiarity of the action struck them both at the same time and they smiled in response.

Jane being Jane, he soon spoiled the moment by taking a predatory step towards his partner. "I'm sorry about dinner" he said, though his expression wasn't exactly contrite.

Lisbon gamely held her ground. "Forget it", she smirked. I'm getting a kick out of finding something else you're not good at".

Jane advanced another step. "Something else?" he queried. "Oh I very much doubt that, Lisbon". He shifted even closer until stopped by a cool hand against his chest.

Lisbon had intended to halt Jane's advances but then she felt the way his heart thumped against her hand. Her chest tightened with the realisation the time for banter was over. Lisbon licked her lips self-consciously. They both knew she hadn't come to his apartment for a meal. Their ten year dance of conflict and attraction had gained a momentum that neither could deflect. Jane was sweating and smelled of smoke; frankly he looked far from his best but it simply didn't matter. This time it was Lisbon who advanced, sliding her hand up and around the back of her consultant's neck.

It was all the encouragement Jane needed. With moan of desire he lunged at Lisbon, eager to taste her lips. A painful clash of teeth caused him to jerk backwards, however, as he failed to anticipate a similar move from Lisbon. Chastened but undeterred they slowly came together again, their mushed lips ponderously coming together like two snails on their wedding night.

Jane's tongue was big, insistent and very wet, forcing Lisbon to back up a little in order to avoid gagging. Part of her wondered at his lack of technique but she paid it no heed. This was no time for squeamishness, after all. She jammed her own tongue fiercely in the gap between his lips and gums as Jane advanced them towards the bedroom.

On passing the threshold Lisbon killed the lights and moved backwards towards the bed. She distractedly noted that the purple theme from the living room was continued with the satin sheets. They continued to smooch noisily as though sheer volume could make up for the absence of other sensations.

The next few minutes devolved into a pseudo wrestling match as they did battle with each other's clothes. Jane sprained his thumb attempting to unclasp Lisbon's bra and the petite agent was almost certain to be sporting a black eye the next morning thanks to an errant elbow from Jane as she grabbed a little too much while trying to slide down his Y fronts.

Eventually, blessedly, they were naked and situated beneath the sheets. Freed from the restraint of his vest and shirt, Jane's paunch slid along Lisbon's bony hips as he braced himself for the home stretch of his disastrously executed seduction. For a second they both paused, gripped by doubts. Were they about to consummate a wonderful new stage in their relationship or commit a terrible and irrevocable mistake?

The suspense was killing Lisbon. No matter how wrong this felt she wasn't going to back out now, not after all she had sacrificed and suffered for this infuriating, unobtainable man. She owed it to herself to experience at least once the act of knowing him in the biblical sense.

Meanwhile the flustered consultant tried to rally his flagging erection. "Enough is enough", he mentally chided himself. The night may have been disastrous thus far but all was not lost. He was Patrick Jane! Mentalist extraordinaire, to whom every woman's secret desires was as plain as day.

He would bring his 'A' game to Lisbon and put into practice all the things he had fantasized about doing to her on those long, lonely nights on his couch. He would map her body with his sensual fingers, play her like an accordion and ravage her till she didn't know up from down. Taking a firm hold of himself he squirmed into position.

Lisbon plastered on an encouraging smile and made herself ready. "Patrick" she groaned, "I need you inside me".

"Call me Jane" he growled as he pushed resolutely forwards. Lisbon gasped in surprise as her consultant's wang jabbed her inner thigh. A muttered apology later and their union was underway as two tense and awkward bodies strove to find a common rhythm.

With a final groan Jane collapsed, trapping Lisbon beneath his sweaty body. Sliding an eye towards the bedside clock he was gratified to see that three and a half minutes had elapsed. A personal best. He felt a brief surge of male pride before wondering if most of the credit went to Lisbon and her impersonation of a starfish.

A horrible silence permeated the room before a dolorous groan of hunger erupted from Lisbon's belly like the creature from Alien. For a brief moment she was utterly mortified but then Jane burst out laughing and a second later she joined him wholeheartedly.

It was the purest moment she had ever shared with Jane. Their laughter was natural, unguarded and utterly uninhibited. It healed and cleansed him while she wept tears of mirth at the ridiculousness of it all. They continued on for many minutes, the shaking of their bodies continually bringing forth fresh peels. Eventually the moment petered out.

Wiping her face with the back of one hand, Lisbon slapped on her bedside light with the other. "She looked at Patrick's laugh reddened face and realised she had never seen him so unguardedly at ease. She pinched his cheek affectionately and then wound a sheet modestly around herself.

"That was..."

"Terrible? Embarrassing?" suggested Jane.

"Mortifying", groaned Lisbon.

Jan nodded in agreement. "Also Humiliating"

"And Icky".

"Squamous", Jane embellished.

"Squamous? Is that even a word?"

"If it isn't it should be and it would mean what…"

"We were both feeling while doing the big nasty", Lisbon agreed. "You know what? Despite that I don't feel too bad. We gave it a shot, right? It's just that whatever we have between us, sex is clearly not part of the equation. I'm going to take a shower. Why don't you order pizza and I'll join you in the living room in a few minutes".

Jane pretended to look aggrieved. "Woman, are you insinuating my cooking wasn't enough to satisfy your base and depraved hungers?"

"Cooking? Is that what you call it?" She teased. "If we had eaten so much as a mouthful they would have found our bodies in the morning and had it down for a murder suicide."

Jane raised his hands in mock surrender before starting to good naturedly put on his clothes. "Pizza it is", he conceded equably.

A short time later they were ensconced on the couch with Lisbon leaning comfortably against Jane as they devoured their greasy pizza. A late night meal had never tasted better. With a sidelong glance Lisbon snatched the remote and switched the channel from a space documentary to a re-run of Survivor. Jane pretended to be horrified at his partner's barbaric taste in television but within minutes he was enjoying himself immensely as he cold read the participants.

"There's something off about that guy Derek"

"There is not! You just don't like him because he's so macho and competitive."

"That's not it at all", Jane insisted. "The close set eyes, the excessively hairy forearms. A chronic self-abuser."

"Oh come on Jane, that's gross!"

"I just feel sorry for the poor bastards who have to share his hutch is all"

"Hutch?"

"You know what I mean Lisbon, don't quibble over petty definitions".

"I'm not quibbling."

"Quibbling."

A short while later Jane put an arm around Lisbon and drew her into a gentle hug. They stayed that way for a peaceful minute and then Jane leaned back. He regarded his partner with affection. "BFFs?" he said.

Lisbon smiled back. "BFFs", she sighed contentedly. This was nice, she thought. Jane might be a terrible lover but… Her eye fell on a coffee table book featuring naked bodybuilders. Naked bodybuilders? How could she never have suspected Jane of having such horrific taste in books and décor? Unless… Lisbon could almost hear the clunk as the penny finally dropped.

"Jaaaane?"

"Yes dear?"

"This isn't really your apartment, is it."

"Well... ahhh."

"JANE!"

A/N: So there it is. My first fanfiction. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. Let me know! I've already started on my next story which will be greatly different. More serious for one thing, though still quite AU. Picture a version of the The Mentalist set in Australia with our favourite agents working for an off-shoot of the Australian Federal Police called the Canberra Bureau of Investigation...


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